Thursday, June 27, 2013

On Fridays, BTSF offers links to other discussions about race & Christianity. It's an opportunity for you
to read about racial justice & Christianity from other perspectives, and for me to give props to the shoulders on which I stand...Weekly Round Up:

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Jesus told us that we would recognize His prophets, those that follow Him and love Him, by the fruits that they bear (Matthew 7:16-20). When it comes to race, does the world see Christianity, in particular white Christianity, as bearing good fruit (See post: The Cross and the Lynching Tree)?

In More Than Equals, Spencer Perkins observes that "Blacks have not been able to distinguish between white Christians and white non-Christians when it comes to racial issues." Our poor track record is further delineated in Emerson & Smith's Divided By Faith. Like secular white Americans, most white Christians "see no systematic discrimination against blacks; indeed, they deny the existence of any ongoing racial problem in the United States."

White Christians have not been allies for their sisters and brothers in the face of racial systemic oppression. Indeed, many white churches and clergy actively opposed the work of Rev. Martin Luther King and vehemently objected to the justice work coming from Black churches at the time. The unity of Christ was, and remains, severed.

To be fair, there have also always been allies acting in the name of Christ for racial justice and reconciliation. But they are often the outliers, the 'extremists,' those whose theological priorities are questioned. They often act as individuals, or perhaps as small groups, but not as a unified body of Christ in the face of a world of racial brokenness and sin.

As white Christians, rather than producing the good fruit of Christ, we have instead born 'strange fruit.' And it has severely damaged their witness to the world.

Strange Fruit

Billie Holiday first performed 'Strange Fruit' at the Cafe Society in 1939 to a stunned audience. Racial violence in all of its brutality was poignantly juxtaposed with the natural beauty of the south. The raw imagery of Jim Crow lynching captivated listeners. Holiday's haunting presentation cut to the soul, and she was met with great resistance in recording and performing it.

I wrestle with referencing this song in this blog's title. The reality of violence, both past and present, against people of color is not to be trivialized, sensationalized, or appropriated. The magnitude of the injustices represented by this song deserve more than to be reduced to pithy turns of phrase. The song is not for callous consumption, and if its use here crosses a line, then no amount of good intentions will justify it.

But the reality of the violence and injustice represented in the song are not only ongoing in today's society, but are often actively perpetuated by those who profess to be believers of the Christian faith. It is no hyperbole to suggest that people are dying in our streets because of the Church's inability to bear prophetic fruit to the nations. Too often we bear strange fruit instead.

In a very real way, when we trifle with God's children, we are dealing in eternal consequences. Lives are at stake. Souls are at stake. Our current racialized power dynamics are in direct opposition to Christ's call to "to proclaim good news to the poor...to proclaim freedom for the prisoners." We are like Israel, wailing for our offerings to be received, while we "exploit all [our] workers...striking each other with wicked fists."

Who would believe that our God is powerful, loving, or in any way an agent of life-changing grace? Is it any wonder that Christians are known as hypocrites more than as healers? As condemners, more than as allies?

Strange fruit, indeed.

Bearing Good Fruit
The Church's broken history with race needs to be acknowledged before we can move forward. Our legacy of privilege and injustice has very real consequence for the Kingdom. It is time to prune the branches of our own indifference, so we can bear good fruit for Christ in our witness to the world.

Despite our history, the Church has tremendous potential to usher racial justice and reconciliation on earth. It is the hope in Christ's promise of redemption and holy partnership that is at the heart of By Their Strange Fruit's mission. The Gospel is powerful in its capacity to affect hearts and minds, if we would only show the world that it is possible in Christ.

I believe in the power of Cross to bring redemption to a broken world, to make allies of oppressors, and saints of sinners. This is the transforming image of Christ that we can present to a hurting world.This is the good fruit that we can bear.

Thursday, June 20, 2013

On Fridays, BTSF offers links to other discussions about race & Christianity. It's an opportunity for you
to read about racial justice & Christianity from other perspectives, and for me to give props to the shoulders on which I stand...Weekly Round Up:

One of my privileged friends and her husband recently made the noble decision to move their young, white family into a low-income, predominantly black neighborhood precisely so they could listen well as people of privilege. Their urban adventure started out well but within the span of a few short months, their house was burglarized and both of their cars were stolen.

Like most novice reconcilers, they weren’t prepared for this amount of fear, loss and pain. While considering whether they should move their family out of the neighborhood and into a “safer”, more privileged space, it became clear to them that the fact that they had the option of moving out of the neighborhood was a marker of privilege. They ultimately decided to stay put, this time with an expectation that their pursuit of solidarity with their oppressed neighbors would likely incur immense pain.

There will be blood
It’s easy for privileged reconcilers to think that cross-cultural journeys into oppressed territory to “make things right” will be fairly straightforward and painless. After all, many privileged reconcilers haven’t personally encountered the relentless forces of oppression and often make the grave mistake of underestimating them. But make no mistake, when privilege and oppression meet face-to-face in pursuit of reconciliation, blood will be shed.

This happened on the cross and it happens in our everyday encounters as people of reconciliation. As a form
of death, oppression stands as a formidable enemy that will continue to wage war against reconcilers who live in the “now but not yet.” Reconciliation always has a cost because even the tiniest, seemingly inconsequential acts of reconciliation between the privileged and the oppressed bear the grandiose power of the cross. And while this power ultimately defeats death, the victory comes at great cost and much bloodshed.

The pain incurred in pursuit of reconciliation is no joke because it approximates the work of the cross. If reconciliation work doesn’t bring about great pain, it’s not really reconciliation work. Case in point, the reconciling work of the cross was so violently painful that even Jesus the Great Reconciler approached it reluctantly. (‘Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”’ Matthew 26:39).

Following Jesus’ footsteps, privileged reconcilers will encounter many forms of pain: physical or verbal assault, rejection from both privileged and oppressed folks, disillusionment in the face of failure, identity and worldview collapse, loneliness, etc. For this reason, it’s important to embrace this pain, feel it deeply and use it to find solidarity with Jesus who knows this pain all too well, and with oppressed folks who have long encountered the pain of an unreconciled Church and society. Privileged reconcilers who experience pain are in the good company of both the crucified Christ and oppressed folks.

There will be hope too!
Not only is pain a powerful point of solidarity with Jesus and oppressed people, it’s also a signpost of the impending victory over oppression. The pain that reconcilers experience should be framed not only by the knowledge of Christ’s death but also by the hope of Easter morning. Pain and hopelessness don’t have the last word! Reconcilers know that Friday afternoon is inevitably followed by Sunday morning, that weeping may endure for the night but joy comes in the morning, and that death precedes life.

For this reason, reconcilers can fully experience misery and pain while also rejoicing that, in the kingdom of God, pain is a signpost that life must burst forth as it did on Easter morning. If reconcilers succumb to eschatological myopia and only consider their pain outside of the context of the resurrection, they sever pain’s powerful bond with hope. But, when reconcilers straddle the pain of the cross and the victory of the resurrection, they encounter an unshakeable hope in the experience of pain. And empowered with the hope that victory is on the horizon, they can continue to do the work of reconciliation with strength and joy.

Thanks to all who have read this blog series! I hope it’s been helpful. As a benediction of sorts, I leave you with this passage of hope from Romans 8:

Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written:

“For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”

37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.

And another passage of hope from Habakkuk 2:

3 For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false.Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and will not delay

Thursday, June 13, 2013

On Fridays, BTSF offers links to other discussions about race & Christianity. It's an opportunity for you to read about racial justice & Christianity from other perspectives, and for me to give props to the shoulders on which I stand...Weekly Round Up:

Due to power inequities, when oppressed people raise their voices, angrily point out injustices or speak out in a way that makes privileged people uncomfortable, privileged folks often opt to shut down the conversation. They usually do this by physically walking away from the conversation with an “I don’t deserve this” attitude or by mentally and emotionally walking away from the conversation by writing the oppressed person off in their mind. “She’s just another angry black woman.” (Read: She’s crazy and not worth listening to.)

Walking away when faced with the anger of oppressed people is a mistake for three reasons. One, it makes the conversation revolve around the privileged person (rather than the oppressed person) and serves to support rather than disrupt the inequitable power dynamics between the two people. Two, privileged people have a lot to learn from the expressed anger of oppressed people. Oppressed people have a unique view of the world and possess important insight that is otherwise unavailable to privileged people. If oppressed people are angry, they have good reason to be so. Privileged people should be all ears. Three, only a cheap, self-centered reconciliation seeks to avoid the anger of the oppressed. Privileged people who are truly committed to standing in solidarity with oppressed folks must also commit to knowing, bearing and even being targeted by their anger. Only then can the factors that have contributed to the anger be truly addressed.

When faced with the anger of oppressed folks, here are some tips on how to pull up a chair and say “Tell me more,” rather than run away.

2. Remember that anger is a good thing. Social psychologists call anger an approach emotion – a motivating emotion that calls people to action, arouses people from their slumber and encourages them to be assertive advocates for themselves and others. Anger is what motivates people to speak up, to share about their experiences and labor for just and mutually-honoring relationships.

Without anger, the conversation you’re having with the oppressed person probably wouldn’t be happening. The anger of the oppressed serves to catalyze and sustain reconciliation work, so don’t try to suppress it, colonize it, or ignore it. Seek to understand it.

In addition, shared emotion is a powerful unifying force. If privileged folks sought to empathize with and embrace the anger of their oppressed brothers and sisters, rather than trying to suppress it, they would encounter a deeper unity.

3. Resist the false security of denial. If an oppressed person angrily brings up an injustice that has escaped a privileged person’s attention, it can be tempting to deny that the oppressed person’s viewpoint is valid.

“You’re being overly sensitive.”
“You’re playing the ‘race’ card.”
“You’re misinterpreting the situation.”

Clinging to denial enables the privileged person to avoid re-opening and possibly revising their seemingly-tidy worldview. As a result, they’re able to maintain a (false) sense of security in their beliefs about the world. Not only is denial a dishonoring and dehumanizing response to the oppressed person’s anger, but it prevents privileged folks from gleaning invaluable insight from oppressed people.

4. Stay off your soapbox. Now is not the time for privileged folks to be a “prophetic voice” in the lives of oppressed people by speaking hard truth about what (privileged people think) oppressed people should be doing to improve their situation. Privileged people lost their right to the prophetic megaphone when they knowingly or unknowingly participated in societal systems that benefit some people and oppress others. Sorry folks – you can’t be a prophet and an oppressor at the same time.

5. Think in terms of individuals and societal structures. When privileged people feel that they are the target of oppressed people’s anger, they can get really defensive. “I’m not like that,” they may be tempted to say. (I made the mistake of saying this last week when an oppressed person expressed anger at privileged people like me.) Or “I’m not responsible for what my ancestors did,”they might protest. But to respond in this manner, reveals a misunderstanding of the nature oppression. It’s both individual and structural; we are mistaken when we think it is solely one or the other.

All people participate in our oppressive societal structure – some perpetuate it knowingly, some perpetuate it unknowingly, and others resist it as revolutionaries. Typically, we try to place all of the blame on a handful of “evil” perpetrators. But to do that is a mistake. The problem is structural and no one person or group of people is solely to blame.

That said, societal structures are upheld or torn down by people and in this period of time, a specific group of people (e.g., privileged folks) possess the power to make the greatest impact – for good or for bad. Privileged folks who have been the target of oppressed people’s anger should try to understand their culpability as an individual and as a privileged member of an unjust system.

6. Consider it an honor. As an oppressed person, I almost never express my true feelings to privileged people unless I mostly trust them and believe that they’ll actually care about my feelings. Quite simply, it’s a waste of time to communicate my viewpoint to people who don’t care to hear diverse viewpoints. If an oppressed person is showing you how angry they are at the injustice in the world, listen up and feel honored. They probably wouldn’t bother if they thought you were a completely lost cause. :-)

7. Yes, sometimes it sucks. In the process of building righteous bridges between the privileged and the oppressed, privileged reconcilers often encounter the searing anger of the oppressed and find themselves paying the price for the sins of blissfully-ignorant privileged people who are safely sitting in their privileged spaces far, far away. These privileged reconcilers complain that since they’re the only privileged folks around, they have to represent all privileged people, bear the sins of all privileged people and repeatedly repent on behalf of all of the privileged folks who have ever hurt or are continuing to hurt the oppressed folks. The pain involved in being a privileged reconciler is real. When I’m tempted to wallow in this pain I remind myself that the burden of being a privileged reconciler is nothing compared to the burden of oppression. And I keep right on working to dismantle oppression.

Friday, June 7, 2013

On Fridays, BTSF offers links to other discussions about race & Christianity. It's an opportunity for you to read about racial justice & Christianity from other perspectives, and for me to give props to the shoulders on which I stand...Weekly Round Up:

Privileged Christians almost always mean well. No one (or at least hardly anyone) consciously sets out to silence, oppress and dishonor diverse people. No one (or at least hardly anyone) wants to be prejudiced toward diverse people.

Even those who discover that they are biased feel pretty awful about it and want to make things right. For the most part, when it comes to treating others with respect and love, privileged Christians’ hearts are in the right place.

So why is it that many people of color feel marginalized by privileged Christians? In his devastatingly accurate account of a common black experience in white evangelical America, Edward Gilbreath quotes Bruce Fields, a black professor of systematic theology at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Deerfield, Illinois. “People sometimes ignore you. Or, if there is attention directed toward you, it is subtly communicated that you are not to be taken as seriously as a white person of similar status, experience, and credentials.”

When privileged people hear such reports from oppressed people, they often respond with, “But we didn’t mean to ignore them!” or “We try so hard to be really nice and welcoming to them. I don’t get why they don’t see that.” When they do this, they make the grave mistake of thinking that intentions are (mostly) all that matter.

“It’s the thought that counts” is a belief that permeates Christian culture. Cultural psychologist Adam Cohen* has studied differences between Christians and Jews and found that if a married man thinks about having an affair, Christians consider this adultery, but Jews do not. Cohen concludes Christians believe that thoughts are equal to or more morally important than actions, but that Jews believe the opposite. For many Christians, having a heart in the right place is the most important thing.

The Christian overemphasis on attitudes and intentions wouldn’t be a problem if people’s attitudes and intentions generally matched their behavior. But unfortunately they do not. Research on the link between attitudes and behavior has consistently shown that attitudes often fail to predict people’s specific behaviors.** Privileged folks with good intentions can believe that it’s important to honor diverse people and then fail to act in a way that is consistent with their beliefs and intentions.

Those who desire to listen well must recognize the limitations of good intentions. At the end of the day, whether privileged people’s hearts are in the right place matters very little if the people around them feel silenced, ignored and marginalized. Jesus spoke eloquently of love and then famously backed it up by demonstrating love in a way that resonated with the targets of his love. Privileged people must measure the outcomes of their interactions with oppressed people, not just their intentions.

Research suggests that attitudes/thoughts/intentions are more likely to match their behavior when both the attitudes/thoughts/intentions and behaviors are specifically spelled out.*** For example, a person’s attitude in favor of general health will not predict their likelihood to jog four times a week. (Plenty of couch potatoes believe that exercise is generally a good thing.) However, a person’s attitude toward jogging four times a week will absolutely predict their likelihood to jog four times a week.

If privileged people want to avoid a mismatch between their good intentions to their behaviors, they must identify both their specific intentions and the specific behaviors that correspond with those intentions. A general attitude in favor of reconciliation won’t necessarily lead to behaviors that reflect that attitude. More specific attitudes like “It’s important to empower the women of color at my church” are needed. And the specific attitudes need to be matched with specific behaviors like developing leadership/mentoring programs that successfully target women of color and addressing cultural biases that discredit diverse leadership styles. In order to accomplish this task, both the privileged and oppressed people must work together to spell out the specific intentions and behaviors that are needed.

Following Jesus’ example, privileged people with good intentions must find ways to demonstrate them in ways that resonate with oppressed people. Good intentions alone will not suffice.